It's time to say goodnight again
Time to climb down off my high horse
I lean my pride back against the wall
Or at least what's left of it
There's a place that I can go
Where life is slow
The wind and snow
Where mountains are green and full
Of fiddle ferns as long as your arms
There is a wooden house on the hill
With a drive that turns around
And I can climb those stairs
I can lay next to her in bed
We try to make sense of the lone lightbulb above us
Reach our fingers up and see who can hold their finger the longest
Where you carved our names in the wall with a pocket knife
Where all is forgiven.
But a small barb aims me still
Right between the ribs
When I think on my sins